The Reflecting God
by theytalktome
Summary: Everything from the eerily soft music to the entire blacked out arena as the three made their way to the ring by the light lit only by a lantern made him thankful for his long legs. It was a blessing that he had gotten out of the ring fast enough. (Slash. Christian/Luke Harper.)


Soft, warm, plush and wet. Fireworks. A tire iron to the skull. Walking out in front of a semi on the highway. He nuzzles his face against his captive's neck, inhaling his scent in a gently drawn in breath; hands exploring the small, weakened body in front of his.

Christian's kiss could stop time.

It's a daring move to want to - to even try and kiss the older man again, let alone be thinking about it. He moves closer as words spill from his heart instead of obeying the lust boiling over in his loins demanding he fully possess his prisoner.

"Stay?" Luke asks, the behemoth's voice low, as if fear was holding him back from raising his voice. His lips so close that they brush against Christian's as he begs. A surge of panic races through his blood, and he instinctively grips tighter to the veteran wrestler in his arms; his brown eyes pleading for him while he was unable to vocalize the idea of being afraid to lose something - someone.

Bray Wyatt had spoken of love on numerous occasions. This was it.

Harper's unable to take a breath, his entire body still, eyes searching the blue ones watching him for an answer. Christian's lips pull into a soft smile and Luke is unsure if it was his beard brushing against him that caused the reaction. The blonde moves back, his hand cupping his cheek and slender fingers run down his jaw. He leans forward, kissing his captor so gently and all Harper could do was watch half-lidded. Christian pulled away, looking so beautiful, so demure; he looks down at the sheets under them, a subtle blush rising in the apples of his cheeks. The coy display is only interrupted when he hears his name being whispered. He looks up at Luke, the light in the hall flickering as it swayed back and forth send shadows dancing across their faces.

"I don't even know how long I've been in love with you, Christian… It just seems like - like it's all I can remember feeling… Fuck."

July.

He had been preparing for a spear to seal the win when he was met with a hard choke slam and quietly tried to roll out of the ring after his loss. It seemed to be the only thing happening to him anymore: loss, after loss. He just wanted to get to the back as quickly as possible, and as he heard a sudden laughter coming over the arena, a simple glance at the titantron playing the final video for the arrival of The Wyatt Family made him move even quicker. He watched the screen with everyone else from the safety of the back. Everything from the eerily soft music to the entire blacked out arena as the three made their way to the ring by the light lit only by a lantern made him thankful for his long legs. It was a blessing that he had gotten out of the ring fast enough.

Never did the thought cross his mind that Bray Wyatt was after Kane, or that he himself was being sought after by the powerhouse Luke Harper. Never did he expect that after Wyatt's followers attacked and drug Kane from the ring that he could fall to a similar fate. The arena had gone black again and cut to commercial.

Something still had not sit right with him. Alone, he made his way to the locker room, feeling something heavy settling in his stomach and mind cloud over. Christian instinctively knew he was being kidnapped. His arms had been secured immediately, struggling as he refused to go down the way his opponent had. He squirmed in the arms of a man donning a prison jumpsuit and wearing a sheep mask. When he could no longer thrash against the enormous man, he was focusing on the other cult member in front of him. Younger. Long, black hair that just about reached his shoulders and an unruly black beard that concealed the majority of his face, his filthy, sweaty, white wife beater clung to his chest, red flannel shirt hanging off of his body with the sleeves ripped off. His muscles glistened with sweat as he moved, his violent eyes staring at him. Christian couldn't read the expression, but it reeked of danger. He struggles and sinks into the man holding his limbs, desperate to move even slightly away from the individual approaching him.

He could hear an apology being whispered as he removed his shirt and balled up the red fabric. Christian watched in horror, his thrashing increased, regardless of how ineffective it was. He could only imagine what was about to happen to him as Harper stripped from his shirt and soaked it with liquid from a vial passed to him. Christian cried as he watched. As he suffocated in the sweet scent. He felt his body being released as he fell unconscious.

The leader simply stood back and watched.

It was dark, raining and quiet when he woke up on the floor, arms bound and cuffed, ankles imitating them. A voice somewhere outside the room repeating a simple, dreadful chant: "Obey. Obey. Obey. Obey…"

His breathing ceased when the First Son entered.


End file.
